


you only live forever in the lights you make

by distira



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-04
Updated: 2011-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:24:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distira/pseuds/distira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>álvaro accompanies raúl to the hospital when he gets hurt in training during the world cup.  from <a href="http://touchline.livejournal.com/727.html?thread=32983#t32983">this</a> prompt at <span><a href="http://touchline.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://touchline.livejournal.com/"><b>touchline</b></a></span>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you only live forever in the lights you make

Alvaro is across the field playing an impromptu game of foot volley with Xabi when it happens.

He isn't sure who's down on the pitch at first, but Xabi points and there's a crowd gathered, so Alvaro catches the ball and they make their way over. Alvaro breaks into a jog when he doesn't see Raúl standing around.

"What happened?" He asks Llorente. Raúl is in obvious pain, his face twisted as one of the trainers asks him questions.

"I didn't mean to," Fernando says. He sounds worried. "I tackled him and I guess I hit him wrong or something, he just went down."

Alvaro shoves him, not quite playfully.

"You know I wouldn't do it on purpose," Fernando says, but he takes it pretty well in stride.

"Yeah, I know," Alvaro says.

The players begin to disperse as the trainers stay near Raúl, still talking to him and occasionally asking him to bend his foot. Alvaro lingers until he's the last one there; Xabi stays with him for a while before he leaves, clapping Alvaro on the shoulder.

"You okay, Chori?" Alvaro asks. "I can beat him up if you want."

Raúl forces out a laugh. Alvaro presses his lips together, trying to keep his expression light. "It was an accident," he tells Alvaro.

"Sure," Alvaro shrugs. "Offer still stands."

"'s okay," Raúl says. "I, uh. I don't know if I can stand on it?" He says to one of the trainers. His voice tilts up at the end, making his statement a question. He sounds young, and that makes Alvaro more worried than anything else.

He backs up a little as Raúl stands up with help from two of the trainers, and he bites his lip as he watches Raúl struggle to take a few slow steps forward. After about ten feet, Raúl shakes his head and the trio stops moving. Alvaro balls his hands into fists and frowns. The trainers hook Raúl's arms over their shoulders and bend down to pick Raúl's legs up. They carry him the rest of the way off of the pitch. Alvaro watches until they get to the tunnel. Raúl visibly winces whenever his right leg is jostled.

Alvaro jogs over to where the team is starting to run drills again.

"Iker," he calls, approaching his captain. "Is it cool if I ask El Mister to go with Raúl?"

"Yeah," Iker says without a moment's hesitation. "Go, make sure Chori's okay."

Del Bosque doesn't hesitate, either. "I need Marchena more for these drills anyway," he tells Alvaro. "Go, see if he's okay."

Alvaro doesn't need to be told again.

"I'm looking for Raúl Albiol," he tells the woman at the front desk. "He came in a few minutes ago?"

She gives him a room number and points down the hallway. Alvaro power-walks, still wearing his training clothes, although he'd changed from cleats to sneakers on the drive over.

The trainers aren't in Raúl's room when he gets there. Raúl's lying on the bed, propped up against a few pillows. The TV's on, showing highlights of the Chile match.

"Hey," Alvaro says. He pulls one of the chairs up next to the bed and sits, swinging his legs up to rest his feet on the edge of the mattress.

"Hey," Raúl says.

"So," Alvaro starts. "What's the deal?"

"Waiting for X-rays," Raúl tells him. He coughs and Alvaro nods.

"Okay," he says. "Cool. We can wait for X-rays."

"Does El Mister know you're here?" Raúl asks.

"You ask like you think he could keep me away," Alvaro snorts. It gets a laugh out of Raúl, so Alvaro grins, too. He tips his chair back and lets his feet drop to the floor. He rests his forearm on the mattress, near enough to Raúl's that he can feel his body heat. He wiggles his fingers until Raúl flips his hand so his palm is facing up, and then Alvaro links their fingers together and they sit in silence for a while, watching the highlights.

The trainers come back in after a while with one of the doctors. Alvaro stays seated next to Raúl as they tell him his right fibula is the problem.

"Well, they said it wasn't too serious," Alvaro says. "Right? So it'll be okay."

"Yeah," Raúl says. "No. I don't know."

They're both lying on one of the hotel room beds. Alvaro is sprawled out, his feet near the pillows and one of his arms dangling off of the edge. Raúl is more contained, his arms crossed over his chest, his head resting on Alvaro's unwanted pillows.

"Is it bad that I'm kind of glad about this?" Raúl asks. His voice sounds small even though he's not whispering. Alvaro sits up.

"Glad?"

"Not like. Happy, or anything, but." Raúl frowns. "I have a reason to not be playing now, you know?"

"Shut up, Chori," Alvaro says. He folds himself down to pillow his cheek against Raúl's chest. "We all want you out there."

"I know, it's not that," Raúl says. "It looks better this way, though, right? I mean, at least I can tell myself, it's okay, you just aren't starting because you're injured."

"You can tell yourself whatever you want," Alvaro says, even though it's not the right thing to say, because it's Raúl, and Alvaro has never worried about the right thing to say with Raúl.

"Is that why you tell yourself you're the best defender in the world before every game?" Raúl teases. Alvaro surges up and blows a raspberry into Raúl's neck until Raúl begs for mercy and shoves him off.

"Fuck you, that's true," Alvaro says, matter of fact.

They channel surf for a while, finding nothing, and when the watery sunlight coming in the windows starts to fade, Raúl's phone rings. Alvaro doesn't move from his position half on top of Raúl while Raúl talks to someone who Alvaro guesses is one of the trainers.

"They said it's not that bad," Raúl says after he hangs up. "That I should be able to play again in a few days, I just have to take it easy."

"Man, you gotta have some serious swag to take it easy at the World Cup," Alvaro jokes. "Wanna find Xabi, share the good news?"

"No," Raúl says. "Can you just text him? I'd rather stay here."

"Yeah," Alvaro says. He pulls out his phone and one of Raúl's hands makes its way to the middle of Alvaro's back, stroking gently. "Yeah, we can stay here."

**Author's Note:**

>  **.** chori is raúl albiol's nickname
> 
>  **.** raúl [injured his right fibula](http://conlaroja.wordpress.com/2010/06/27/day-34-our-poor-chori/) during a training session during the world cup 2010 due to a tackle from llorente. video of him being carried off the pitch is [here](http://www.marca.com/2010/06/26/futbol/mundial_2010/selecciones/espana/1277574789.html) (it's on the side of the page).
> 
>  **.** alvaro arbeloa did [accompany raúl to the hospital](http://conlaroja.wordpress.com/2010/07/05/la-roja-friends-world-cup-edition/) after the injury.  
> 


End file.
